


triple feature

by ectocooler, mainshock



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Halloween Costumes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectocooler/pseuds/ectocooler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainshock/pseuds/mainshock
Summary: Rictor, Shatterstar, the Halloween party, and the days leading up to it.





	triple feature

**HALLOWEEN TRIPLE FEATURE!!**  
**8:00 PM - SCREAM**  
**9:40 - BLAIR WITCH PROJECT**  
**10:50 -**

“ _Jurassic Park_?” Ric reads off the flyer, furrowing his brow. “No way that counts as a horror movie.”

“An encounter with dinosaurs on a dark island where there is no civilization for miles...” ‘Star is reading over his shoulder. Ric can feel the warmth of his body as he inches closer. “What’s not to be horrified about?” 

“Uh, I dunno,” Ric says. It’s not like they haven’t had this disagreement before, but Halloween is Halloween and some things are sacred. “Maybe the fact that dinosaurs aren’t real?” 

He glances back just in time to see ‘Star roll his eyes at him. “I for one enjoy _Jurassic Park_.”

“Ain’t about enjoying it,” Ric points out. “It’s a good movie. Great special effects, for its time.” ‘Star slips his hands into the back pockets of Ric’s jeans, and Ric leans back against him without really thinking about it. “Still not a horror movie. So, are we going?”

It’s late fall, and a chill wind creeps in between the brick tenements and old concrete office blocks of their neighbourhood. It pulls the red-brown leaves from the street side trees and scatters them over the sidewalk, swirling around their ankles when they walk. The sky is slate grey with the promise of rain.

It’s cold, and fall always brings the days where it pours for hours. It used to bring his mood down, but ‘Star loves it, and Ric has learned to love it too. 

“Unless you have Halloween plans with someone else you have not told me about.” ‘Star straightens back up, adjusting his messenger bag around his shoulder. “And as long as seeing Jurassic Park doesn’t upset you too much.”

“Is this gonna turn into a thing?” Ric asks, already knowing the answer. “And no, wise guy, I do not have Halloween plans with anyone else.” He turns around, falling into step beside ‘Star as they continue on down the street. He feels out for ‘Star’s hand, catches it, and smiles when ‘Star interlaces their fingers. “Unless you wanna throw on that Han Solo costume from last year for me. I could get down with Han.”

“Would you by playing the part of Luke Skywalker?” ‘Star asks him. Ric can hear the smirk in his voice. “This is important in regards to the answer I’m going to give you.” Ric can just imagine the mischievous smile playing on ‘Star’s lips. Halloween always brings it out in him.

Ric deliberates on the answer. “I dunno,” he says, with a shrug. “I was thinkin’ of it as more of an _and Julio Richter as himself_ kind of situation, but if you’ve got the hots for Luke, I’m sure I can work something out.” He glances up at him, flashing him a grin. “Are we talkin’ _Return of the Jedi_ black outfit Luke, or the Dagobah tank top?”

“What do you think?” ‘Star asks him and he’s still smirking, pulling Ric’s hand as they cross the street while the crosswalk timer slips dangerously close to zero. “Although that black outfit was certainly a _look_. But I was thinking we could do something new this year. I’m not certain what that would be yet, but give me some time and I will certainly come up with something.” 

“I bet you will,” Ric says, smiling to himself. “I’m gonna go ahead and leave it up to you. As long as you think I’m gonna look good, I don’t mind what you pick out. I’m totally cool with whatever. Just all-round chill. I -”

A car stops short in front of them, its hood just nosing over the lines of the crosswalk. The timer seems to have only just ticked down, but the driver lays on the horn nonetheless and leans out the window. “Hey, watch it!”

Ric turns on him with a murderous look. “You watch it, asshole! What, you couldn’t wait another two seconds?”

“The light was just about to change, man. You were blocking the road!”

“No, _you_ were blocking the crosswalk,” Ric insists, breaking away from ‘Star to walk up to the car. “You’re way over the line, dude. Go on, back that thing up.” He slaps the hood of the car, staring down the driver all the while. That’s the trick to these things. You can’t break eye contact; it’s like a sign of weakness. “That’s right. Get outta here.” He turns away, flipping the bird over his shoulder as he goes. “Jackass.” 

He catches up with ‘Star on the sidewalk. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”

“You were talking about how very _chill_ you are. Something that is clearly proven by the fact that you murdered a man with your words in the middle of Queen’s Blvd.” ‘Star is staring at him, and the smirk he was sporting is now something much more smug. “You are truly a shining example of self-control.”

“Oh, so word-murder is off the table, but _sword_ -murder is totally fine?” Ric lets ‘Star take his hand again. He remembers when ‘Star’s sense of humor used to be awkward instead of razor-sharp. “Wow, I guess that one single letter makes a real difference.” They walk on down the street, quiet, looking at the cardboard cut-out pumpkins and calico ghosts decorating the stoops and apartment windows. Ric walks close to ‘Star, nudging him playfully with his hip. “It totally turns you on when I do that,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk.

“And it totally turns _you_ on when I use my swords in combat so I think we may be even.” ‘Star uses the same cadence as Ric to repeat his words. He tries not to laugh out loud. They still have a few blocks to go before their subway station and then the thirty minute ride home, so Ric figures it’s best to get it all out of their systems now.

“Oh yeah,” he says, casually guiding ‘Star’s hand back into his pocket. “Gets me worked up just thinkin’ about it. Say, are you doin’ anything tonight? You don’t have plans with someone else, do you?”

“I actually have plans with the waffles that are in our freezer,” ‘Star pulls Ric close. “But after that I am certain I can squeeze you in.”

Ric feels himself shiver. “Oh, I bet you can,” he purrs, slipping his arm around ‘Star’s waist. “If it’s gonna be like that, maybe I should have my hand in your pocket instead. Maybe -”

A man walking past them gives them a disapproving look. “Get a room,” he grumbles.

Ric turns around.

“What’s your problem, huh? Are you jealous? Do you just hate love? Are you -”

‘Star slips his hand around Ric’s mouth, muffling him for a moment until he speaks up. 

“Do not worry, sir!” he calls back to him louder than he needs to as Ric stumbles along with him, the hand over his mouth doing little to stifle his laughter. “We will most certainly be _getting a room._ ”

\--

Thinking back, Ric definitely remembers Jurassic Park being way scarier when he and ‘Star first saw it together in their teens. Then again, they weren’t allowed to drink beer in the cinema when they were teens, so maybe it’s better the second time around.

“Remember the first time we saw that?” he asks, and he knows that ‘Star does. They’re just walking out of the cinema now. It’s one of those smaller, kitschier ones, usually reserved for foreign films and arthouse stuff, but nobody’s too fancy for a Halloween double feature. Triple feature. Whatever.

“I remember,” ‘Star nods. “We had caramel popcorn. You allowed me to hold your hand in public for the first time.”

“Sure,” Ric says. “Those events are listed in order of importance, right? Anyway, I sure am glad we don’t have to do that in the dark anymore.”

It’s colder out tonight. Under the warm glow of the bare lightbulbs surrounding the cinema entrance, they pull their coats back on. It’s not quite cold enough to snow, but there’s a mist of rain that hits them when they step out from under the entryway. Ric pulls his hood up.

“The caramel popcorn was good, you have to admit,” ‘Star teases him and Ric snickers under his hood. “Frightening or not, it is still a perfectly good film. Much better than the others that have come out since. I can’t quite figure out what they are attempting to do with those.” ‘Star doesn’t usually play movie critic, but he has certain sore spots just like anyone else.

“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist. I mean, Chris Pratt - he’s kinda cute, right?” Ric waits by ‘Star’s side as ‘Star fishes his umbrella out of his bag and then pops it up, holding it over the both of them. “Sure, he’s no Jeff Goldblum, but who is?”

“That was not in contention, but it is humorous that you might call me a pessimist. I enjoy a wide variety of movies, but I am unsure why they seem to enjoy making the same movies over again instead of making something new.” ‘Star’s umbrella is patterned with, well, stars. A galaxy swirls together between them and the rain. Ric huddles close to him beneath it.

“Not a remakes guy, huh?” Ric swears they’ve talked about this before, but ‘Star has as many movie opinions as he has swords. ‘Star has a lot of swords. “You wanna watch something else when we get home? Maybe somethin’ else we saw together back in the 90s?”

“I have a feeling we are both going to need to dry off for awhile once we get home, umbrella or not. More movies would be wonderful.” Ric knows ‘Star could watch movies and television for hours. Sometimes he indulges with him and other times he doesn’t. Tonight feels a little special though. “Our living room is no cinema, but it is good nonetheless.”’ He finally takes Ric’s hand as they start walking. “Did you have a movie in mind?”

Ric shakes his head. “Your choice,” he says, sidling closer to ‘Star as the rain starts to fall heavy around them. “I’m way more interested in showing you what I woulda done to you in that movie theatre if I didn’t chicken out.”

—

“Are you going to pretend you have no idea what you are doing?” ‘Star hadn’t thought about the physical applications of Rictor’s powers on clay or other things created from the earth when he pitched the idea of coming to one of the trendy new art studios a few blocks away from their apartment for a class. He’s thinking about it now, though, as they sit next to one another at a table. There is a bottle of wine in front of them that neither of them have opened yet and ‘Star wonders if he’s going to have to drink all of it just to keep up appearances.

“Nope,” Ric says. He has his sleeves rolled up and wet earthenware clay all over his hands as he shapes a lump of it into a blocky, abstract sculpture. “I’m just gonna pretend I’m some kind of undiscovered prodigy. Hey, do you wanna open up that bottle? I got stuff on my hands.”

‘Star does. Then he sits quiet for a minute and watches Ric work. He’s cheating on the intricate parts, molding perfect lines with his powers and squaring off the edges so sharply there’s no way it could have been done by hand, but he also just seems to enjoy getting his hands dirty, digging his fingers into the clay. ‘Star is fascinated by it. He’s never seen Ric work on such a small, concise scale. He rarely - if ever - uses his powers to create instead of to destroy.

“I totally don’t know what I’m doing,” Ric murmurs, shaking his head. “I mean, what even is this?”

“I feel as if it could be anything you would like it to be,” ‘Star tells him. From what he’s learned about art, it doesn’t always have to be something concrete - something specific. “No one said it had to be a certain item. I like it.” He pours them both glasses of wine. It’s pink, which tells ‘Star it’s a rosè, which means it will be too sweet for Ric and probably not sweet enough for him. Wine is an interesting thing he’s still attempting to get a grip on.

Ric raises an eyebrow at it. “Ew, is that one of those dessert wines? Gross.” He wrinkles his nose. “Gimme some of that. No, don’t hand it to me, just hold it up to my mouth.” ‘Star does, and Ric makes a valiant effort of drinking it. He only manages to spill a little. Then he pulls a face. “I dunno how people drink that shit,” he comments, turning back to his sculpture.

“Shall I finish it on my own?”

“What? No way, man. Leave some for me.”

“We are probably the most embarrassing people to sit by.” ‘Star watches as Ric attempts to wipe his chin with his shoulder, hands still buried in clay. “With the spilled wine and eccentric pottery going on.” He takes a sip from his own glass and makes a face. “This is decidedly not dessert wine. I think there may be something wrong with your tastebuds.” 

“You know I don’t know shit about wine,” Ric chuckles, watching ‘Star out of the corner of his eye. “It’s, like, a depression beverage. It’s what you drink if you wanna throw up on the couch and then cry in it. Hard pass.” ‘Star offers him the glass again, and he drinks from it. “Anyway, we’re not embarrassing. I bet we’re cute. Bet we’re makin’ everyone jealous.”

“Yes. Dripping wine all over the table and having your hands covered in clay is cute.” ‘Star shakes his head, but he’s not sure he believes what he’s refuting. Ric is always handsome, no matter what he’s doing. Even now, with droplets of wine still stuck in his stubble. ‘Star thinks he couldn’t be more in love than he is right now.

“Yeah, well, fix me up.” Ric leans in close, smirking when ‘Star hesitates. ‘Star calls his bluff, quickly swiping at Ric’s chin with his tongue and then hiding it all with a kiss. His lips taste sweet, and ‘Star lingers there far longer than he should.

“See?” Ric smiles, kissing him quickly again for good measure. “Told you. Cute.”

—

“I do not think I am any better at this.” Normally, ‘Star thinks, someone could blame their inability to capture a likeness on paper on the fact that they might have consumed a whole bottle of wine, but inconveniently enough he can’t use that excuse. The pottery was one thing, but the life drawing is something completely different. If he can’t capture the likeness of a bowl of fruit, how is he supposed to draw a human being? His fingertips are stained with graphite and he broke the first pencil he was using in half. He still feels bad about that.

“Hey, no,” Ric says, lightly squeezing his shoulder. ‘Star recognizes that as his _comforting ‘Star_ tone of voice, and he’s laying it on thick. “You’re doing great. Especially since you’ve never done this before.” It’s true. Apparently, most children on Earth are encouraged to draw pictures from a young age. There are even classes for it in Earth schools. ‘Star had to be taught how to correctly hold the pencil, and even then he still broke it. “Let’s look at what you’ve got,” Ric continues, stepping behind ‘Star’s easel to properly look at his sketchpad. “I love how careful you are. Look at all those neat little lines.”

“I have to be careful or I am going to make a mistake.” ‘Star has heard the instructor say many times that there is no such thing as mistakes, but he begs to differ. The image he has created doesn’t match the image in front of him, and to ‘Star, that seems like a mistake. He’s seen art that’s different than this in the museums he and Rictor visit. He wonders if something else would be easier, something like that. “Perhaps painting would be easier. I think I could easily make one of those paintings where the paint in splattered all over the canvas.”

“Like, a Pollock painting?” Ric shakes his head. “I think he’s kinda got the market cornered. You’ve gotta do your own thing.” He gives ‘Star an encouraging smile. “I mean it, though. You’re doing fine. A couple more times and you’ll be perfect.”

“I feel as if these barely look like oranges. More like misshapen rocks.” Maybe he’s being dramatic, but he feels like he’s not wrong. “Thank you for your kind words, however. It is my understanding that artists are almost never satisfied with their own work.” ‘Star is not sure where he heard that exactly, but it sounds correct in the moment.

Ric grins. “Something like that,” he says. “Maybe you’re just not feelin’ the subject matter. You’d probably be better at drawing people.” He steps back behind his own drawing, looking it over, unimpressed. “Me, though? I think I’m a lost cause. Got no patience for it.” Ric’s drawing is a jumble of thick, bold lines and imprecise dimensions. He seems to have stopped working on it a while ago, and he clearly has no intention of resuming.

“I like it,” ‘Star tells him. “It is abstract.”

Ric chuckles. “I think things are only abstract if they’re like that on purpose,” he points out. 

“Perhaps,” ‘Star says. “I still like it.” He smiles a little and leans close to his sketch to blow away the errant eraser shavings. “Maybe you’ll be better with more wine.”

“Or worse,” Ric points out. “I think I’d rather just watch you for a while. Is that okay?”

“If you insist on watching me erase half of my drawing and start over again,” ‘Star tells him. It’s not long after he refocused on his sketch that he feels Ric pull up his chair next to him and put a careful hand on his thigh. Ric has always been thoughtful and patient with him when he’s learning new things. Every now and then, ‘Star thinks that maybe he was done learning just how big Julio’s heart is. But, just like that poem he read in a book he got from the library last week stated, it contains multitudes. ‘Star still has new things to learn, and Ric always seems to know the perfect way to guide him through each one. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

\--

‘Star does practise more, and he does get better. He redraws the bowl of fruit in class, already far more precise than before, and then he draws the assortment of objects that the teacher arranges in its place afterwards. Ric sits it out, abandoning his own sketchpad to stand beside ‘Star and watch him work.

After that, he doesn’t really stop. Ric wakes up one morning to a pile of sticky notes on the kitchen counter, each one bearing an image sketched in ballpoint pen of an object in their house, each more uncannily accurate than the last. 

While ‘Star is out, Ric catches a bus to the mall and buys him a sketchpad of his own and a bunch of pencils. They go out for brunch the next day, and ‘Star sketches their surroundings while they wait for coffee. He sketches people’s faces on the subway trip back home, carefully concealing his work from everyone sitting around them. Back at home, Ric even catches ‘Star sketching him while he sits on the couch with his laptop, completely unaware that he’s being watched. 

By then, ‘Star’s drawings are perfect, detailed and hyper-realistic, the kind you could mistake for a black-and-white photograph at first glance. Ric thinks it’s amazing, but he can’t say he’s surprised. It just seems to fit. ‘Star is careful, patient, attentive. It’s no wonder he’s taken to this so quickly.

That’s why he’s not exactly surprised when ‘Star asks him a question he’s seemed to be holding in for days. 

“I would like to sketch you, if you would allow me,” ‘Star says. “Naked,” he adds casually, as he puts a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, eyes never leaving Ric’s as they sit at the kitchen table. That’s new too, sitting at the kitchen table to eat breakfast and not just piling together on the couch. ‘Star spent hours assembling the table they purchased from IKEA, and he seems intent on using it as much as possible. Ric thinks that maybe sitting at it for a long period of time every day is ‘Star’s way of showing it that he won, despite its difficult assembly. 

“Oh?” Ric tries to act surprised, as though the thought has never occurred to him and he hasn’t been thinking about it nonstop since ‘Star picked up this particular hobby. Fantasizing about it, more like. “Well, y’know, if you insist… I mean, if it would benefit your, uh, artistic development…”

‘Star gives him a look that tells him that he sees right through him.

“If you have been thinking about it, you should have told me so we could have done something sooner.” ‘Star tips his bowl up to drink the milk before he says anything else. “I feel as if you have ideas about how you might like this to go.”

Ric knows he’s blushing, and he tries to laugh it off. “Yeah, maybe. Most of ‘em don’t actually have much to do with drawing, though.” He picks up his coffee cup, letting it warm his hands before he takes a sip. “I’ll take it seriously, though, I promise.” He will. He loves that ‘Star has this new hobby. He’s glowingly proud of him, and even at the risk of sounding too gooey, he’s told him as much.

“Then I hope that it will be everything you dreamed of.” ‘Star smiles at him before he gets up from his chair and takes his bowl to the sink. “And perhaps, if you manage to stay still for me, we can do something other than drawing afterward.” ‘Star’s arms slip around him suddenly and he feels him kiss the top of his head.

Ric lets his eyelids flutter closed, exhaling a soft sigh as he leans back against the warmth of ‘Star’s chest. “I’ll do my best,” he promises.

\--

‘Star sets up his sketchpad in the living room, opposite the single armchair. He covers the armchair with a sheet from the bedroom (a sheet often seems to play into these things, in his experience), and when he’s ready, Ric sits there for him.

It’s interesting, ‘Star thinks, that he doesn’t undress until the very last minute. There are times where it seems like Ric is all too confident in his appearance, where he’s arrogant (in an attractive kind of way) and his tendencies even border on exhibitionist (fantasizing about being sketched in the nude, for example). Then there are other times where he’s shy, even awkward, where ‘Star’s gaze prompts a blush or a nervous laugh. _Multitudes,_ ‘Star thinks.

“So, uh,” Ric clears his throat. “How do you want me? I mean, is this like a sexy thing or an artsy thing? Should I try and cover up, or just…”

“I think I would like you to lounge on the chair. As if…” ‘Star takes a moment to think about it. “As if you were some sort of royalty.” He has an idea and he’d like to run with it. “I may need to adjust the sheet as needed, but I would like to get the pose correct first.” He taps the side of his cheek with his pencil.

And there’s that nervous laugh from Ric. The blush was already there. “Sure,” he says. “Okay. Uh… maybe like this?” He turns to the side, lounging across the arm of the chair and splaying his legs just slightly. When his tension settles a little, he looks comfortable. Confident, like ‘Star envisaged.

“Think about…” ‘Star hesitates again as he searches his mind for the right words. “Think about ruling a kingdom. That is the type of energy I am attempting to capture.” He’s not sure why, but it just came to him when he was thinking about sketching Ric and especially when he was thinking about him in this particular chair. He steps close to him for a moment and straightens the sheet before tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “That probably sounds terribly silly.” 

Ric’s lips curl into a smile, which he quickly tries to suppress. “A little,” he says. “Okay, how’s this look? Should I be staying still now? Tell me when I need to stop talking.”

“When I tell you to stop talking you never listen to me anyway,” ‘Star points out, but he’s smiling and he hopes Ric gets what he means by that. Ric usually fills the gaps when he doesn’t speak. It’s something that’s always comforted him, even now. “This looks perfect, however.”

“Alright,” Ric says. He swallows hard, laughs another of those nervous laughs, and rubs the side of his nose before he settles back into position.

“You look beautiful,” ‘Star says, and he knows he runs the risk of making Ric even more nervous than before. He’s cute like this, though it’s something of a rarity. It feels special, considering he would never let anyone else see this part of him.

He sees Ric’s lips twitch. “It is so hard not to react to that,” he says, trying his best not to move his face while he talks.

“Shh,” ‘Star hushes him.

“Sorry,” Ric whispers.

‘Star steps back behind the sketchpad and begins to draw.

\--

Much to ‘Star’s chagrin, they have started experimenting with live bands at the bar that he and Ric frequent on Friday and Saturday nights. In his opinion, the atmosphere is much better without the loud sounds and the musicians that hardly seem to know what they are doing at times. Ric seems to like it, so ‘Star stays for him, but he’s always preferred the quiet. Too much noise reminds him of Mojoworld. 

“Are you enjoying this?” ‘Star asks over his glass of cider. 

“What?” Ric shouts, holding his hand to his ear.

‘Star leans in closer. “I said, are you enjoying this?”

“Ohh,” Ric says, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, man, this is great! I totally dig their sound, you know? That bass tone, and the drums… I love this stuff.” He’s shouting over the music, but his expression shows that he’s genuine. “Hey, do you wanna get up and dance with me when you’re done with your drink?”

“You are cute,” ‘Star tells him, smiling despite himself. He may not be much for loud music in such a confined space, but he loves Ric, and he loves that Ric loves this. “Yes I will dance with you, but I’m not certain I know how to dance to music like this.”

“I’m not cute,” Ric says, feigning a pout. “I’m punk. Also, I will teach you to dance. It’s mainly a lot of waving your arms around and accidentally bumping into people. Do you remember that one Simpsons episode where Homer’s checkin’ out classes at that adult education centre, and -”

“Julio?” A voice interrupts them; a woman’s voice, far louder than it has any right to be in this noisy, crowded bar. Ric looks over, and ‘Star follows his line of sight.

“Terry?” Ric calls out, standing up in his seat to peer over the crowd. He waves his arms when he sees her. “Terry! Holy shit! When’d you come back to New York, huh?”

‘Star feels his heart sing when he looks at her. It must have been a year - more, maybe - since they last saw her. Now she’s here, fierce red hair up in a messy ponytail and a smile on her face. ‘Star can’t remember the last time he’d seen her smiling. “Theresa!” He yells far louder than he should have.

“‘Star!” Terry yells out in return, her smile widening into a bright grin. She throws her arms out wide as she approaches them; ‘Star sees several people duck out of the way. She’s always been a presence.

Ric slips out of the booth where they’re sitting and stands to hug Terry (or rather to be hugged by Terry; she seems to be squeezing him very tightly). ‘Star is there a moment later, encircling the both of them in his arms.

“Oh, I’ve missed you boys,” Terry sighs. “I got back from Ireland about three days ago. I’ve been staying with -” She pauses, glancing around as ‘Star finally releases them both from the hug. “Now, where did she get to? Tabs? Tabitha?”

“I’m right here!” The woman in question pushes her way past a couple of people unfortunate enough to wander between them. She sounds grumpy, and looks grumpier. “Like, the whole time. Just getting stepped on by guys with gross ponytails while you three hug it out.”

“Tabitha!” ‘Star grabs her as well when she comes close and then squeezes them all close again. “It is delightful to see all of you here.” It’s only been a few days since they saw Tabitha, but something about the four of them all being here makes him want to never let go. 

He has to when he hears Ric grunt though. 

“My apologies.”

He sees Ric draw a deep, well-needed breath, stretching to ease the pain in his ribs. Then he beckons them all back to the table, and they pile into the booth.

“Where the hell have you been?” Ric asks Terry. He looks as excited to see her again as ‘Star feels. “Man, it’s been ages!”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Terry says, and if her uncertainty makes her hesitate, it doesn’t last long. “It doesn’t matter. I’m so glad to be back.”

“And Tabitha has agreed to house you, how generous of her.” ‘Star looks at Tabby and even if his eyebrow is raised he still has a smile on his face. She isn’t known for her generosity, but it’s there - just buried a little beneath the surface. Neither one of them would admit it, but she and Ric are a lot alike. “I should buy us all a round of drinks. To celebrate.”

He feels Ric stomp on his foot under the table, and he gives him a pointed look. “What are you drinkin’ these days, Terry? Lemonade, or iced tea, or…?”

Terry waves him off. “Anything they have is fine,” she says. “And don’t worry, I’m not bothered by the sight of people drinking. This is a bar, after all.”

“Right,” Ric says, a little awkward. “Sorry. I wasn’t, y’know, questioning your sobriety or anything, I just…”

“Julio,” Terry says, placing her hand on his arm. “It’s fine. It means a lot to me that you remembered.”

“Just so we are clear,” ‘Star gives Ric the same look he gave him. “I have not forgotten. I will order us all lemonade if that is what Terry wants.” He and Terry have always been close, and even despite her absence it feels like no time has passed at all. They slip comfortably back into the friendship, and with Tabitha here it feels almost like old times.

“Nope,” Tabby interjects, shaking her head. “I am not drinking lemonade at a bar. And since we’re celebrating my generosity -”

“That’s not what we’re celebrating,” Ric murmurs.

“- I get to pick my drink, and I want a Long Island iced tea.”

Ric pulls a face. “They’re gross here,” he warns. “I’m pretty sure they just wring out the spill mat into the glass.”

“Whatever,” Tabby says. “Who’s going up?”

“Julio exaggerates. They taste more like lemon floor cleaner,” ‘Star corrects and shuffles out of his side of the booth, taking his near-empty glass of cider with him. “I will get us all something suitable for a celebration.” Everyone looks slightly startled and he takes pride in the fact that he can still strike fear into people’s hearts with the mere thought of what he might bring back to the table.

It never takes much for him to get the bartender’s attention. It’s a perk, he supposes, of being so tall. He orders lemonade for Terry, beer for Ric, and cider for himself, and he even manages to talk the bartender into making a Long Island iced tea for Tabby. Then he ferries them all back to the table, awkwardly clutching the four differently-shaped glasses as he navigates his way through the crowd.

“And there’s our hero,” Ric greets him with a grin, reaching out to take his drink from ‘Star’s hands before he drops it.

“You are only saying that because I brought you a beverage.” ‘Star laughs shortly as he distributes the rest of the drinks accordingly. “Tabitha, yours should not taste terrible as I ensured the bartender made it correctly.” He slides back into the booth easily and sighs happily as the music recedes a little and his friends surround him. He’s never taken for granted what he has, but somehow when they are all gathered like this it feels even more special.

“So, Theresa,” Tabby says, turning to Terry with her drink in hand, its contents dangerously close to spilling over the edge. “Are you coming to my Halloween party? It’s going to be at Ric’s apartment.”

“It’s ‘Star’s apartment too,” Ric points out. “We share it. It’s - wait, what are you talking about?” he asks, as Tabby’s statement finally hits him. “What party? You didn’t tell me anything about a party.”

“Yeah, because I only just thought of it,” Tabby says. “Try to keep up, will you? Anyway, it’s on Halloween, there’s gonna be scary movies and decorations and lots of snacks, and if anyone comes to the door to try and get candy we’re gonna throw stuff at them, and -”

“Nobody’s throwing anything at any kids,” Ric interrupts her, holding his hands up. “We’ll just lock ‘em out, turn off the music and pretend we’re not home. Please, Tabitha, be civil.”

“So our house is being commandeered for a Halloween party?” ‘Star raises an eyebrow. “Are we going to have to set this up and buy all of the decorations?” He’s not going to tell Tabby that he already has very specific plans for Halloween. He’s been on Pinterest. This year, he is imagining their house decorated with candles and bats and spiders. He wants pumpkins out on the front stoop and orange and black throw pillows on their couch. He enjoys all Earth holidays, but Halloween is starting to become his favorite. “You are not making a mess of our apartment.” 

“I would never,” Tabby says adamantly. “I can’t speak for everyone else I invited, but at least you don’t have to worry about me. Also yes, _obviously_ there’s gotta be decorations. I can come over and help out if you want! I can put up streamers, and throw glitter around everywhere, and I’m really good at blowing up balloons! I have, like, super powerful lungs.”

“Yep, I think everyone’s getting that impression,” Ric says, rolling his eyes. “But sure, fine. Party sounds fun.”

“If we are having a Halloween party everyone has to have a costume. It’s customary. Make sure everyone knows this.” ‘Star is matter-of-fact when he says it in the hopes that Tabby might take it to heart. She’s never been one to follow rules, but Halloween rules are fun. “And Theresa, you are going to come as well, yes?”

Terry smiles at him from behind the rim of her glass. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says.

\--

Ric is standing on a chair in the middle of the living room, teetering on tiptoe in his attempt to reach the light fixture on the ceiling. He has several paper streamers in his hand, each converging from a different point in the room, in shades of orange and purple and black. He reaches up and his fingertips skim the glass, but he can reach no further.

“Stupid old building with its stupid high ceilings,” he grumbles to himself. “‘Star? Where’d you run off to, babe?” He can’t see him, but apparently his decorating ideas extended beyond the living room and into pretty much every other part of the house.

“Bathroom,” ‘Star calls and Ric immediately wonders what the hell he could possibly be decorating in there. Then he remembers the small package of rubber spiders they bought at the store, and desperately hopes he’s not sprinkling them in strategic places.

“Uh, can I… can I get some help in here?” Don’t rush or nothin’, but I can’t reach the…” Ric’s arm is starting to hurt. “I can’t reach the thing.”

Ric hears the soft padding of footsteps a moment before he’s being lifted up towards the ceiling. “You could have simply said that you needed help reaching the light. The _thing_ is not very descriptive.” 

“Man, just shut up and help me,” Ric says. He plays at being grumpy, but there’s no way to hide the affection in his voice. Sometimes it just hits him that they’re here, that he’s living with ‘Star and ‘Star is living with him and they do this kind of thing together - decorating for Halloween, planning parties, bickering over stupid stuff.

“I am helping. I am lifting you so you can reach the height that is required to hang the streamers. If you would like me to do it for you all you had to do was ask.” It’s no secret that every once in a while ‘Star likes flaunting his abilities. They haven’t seen proper combat in months and it’s subtle, but every now and then he notices ‘Star making sure he doesn’t lose his edge. 

“Are you really helping, or are you just trying to get me distracted?” Actually, Ric assumes that it’s the former, but he’s distracted nonetheless. He loops the streamers over the light fixture and then settles with his arms around ‘Star’s shoulders as ‘Star lowers him back down. He ends up back on the chair, with his face just a few inches above ‘Star’s. He leans in and kisses the tip of his nose. “You didn’t put any of those spiders in our bedroom, did you?”

“No. There is however a stuffed spider on our bed now. He’s festive,” ‘Star assures him very seriously. “I did not put all of those small spiders in our bathroom either. Just by the soap dispenser and on the top of the medicine cabinet. There are plenty left to put in other places.”

“Great,” Ric deadpans. Part of him feels like he should try and be sensible about all of this, but whatever sense is left melts away when he sees ‘Star’s expression. “You’re cute,” he tells him, cupping his face with both hands and tilting his head up for a kiss. “I’m glad you’re havin’ fun. Are you gonna be okay at the party? I’m guessin’ it’s going to get kinda loud.”

‘Star almost visibly relaxes under Ric’s touch. “I will be fine. As long as you are not hiring a band to play. You are not hiring a band, are you?”

“No,” Ric chuckles. He’s not sure when he went from barely being able to fake a smile to laughing all the time, but he’s pretty sure it’s got something to do with ‘Star coming back. He remembers something Rahne told him once - _he makes you laugh._

He does, but it’s more than that. ‘Star makes him happy. That’s a feeling that used to be all but foreign to him, and now it feels like home. 

“I do need to pick out music, though. Somethin’ spooky.”

“I am certain you will figure it out. In the meantime...” ‘Star lifts him off the chair and Ric hangs on tight. “I would like your opinion on the candles in the kitchen.” ‘Star takes his hand and pulls him forward, flipping the lights on to reveal what looks like at least twenty candles in glass jars decorating their kitchen table. “Is it too much? I was attempting to evoke something I saw online.”

Ric feels a smile grow on his lips. “It’s not too much,” he says. He can’t wait to see what it looks like once the candles are lit. “Well, not unless you end up setting the kitchen on fire. I guess we’ll, uh, just have to keep an eye on it.” He keeps hold of ‘Star’s hand, lifting his arm up over his own shoulders and leaning in against his side. “It looks good, man. Everything does. You did good.”

“Thank you for putting up the streamers and for helping me buy decorations at the store.” ‘Star tells him and pulls him a little closer. “Thank you for everything.” That could mean so many things and maybe it does, but it warms Ric’s heart no matter what the intention.

“Hey, don’t mention it,” Ric says, arms encircling ‘Star’s waist. “I love that you love this, dude. So… anything. You know? Anything you need. All you’ve gotta do is ask.”

“We haven’t purchased any candy. We should probably do that at some point.” Ric gets the distinct impression that candy was probably the last thing on ‘Star’s mind when they went to the store to get all of these things. That and the fact they could only haul back so many things on the train.

“Tomorrow?” Ric suggests. The party is a few days away, but it never hurts to be prepared ahead of time, or to get in on that candy bar action before someone else picks them all out of the bowl.

“Yes. Are you still in agreement about our costumes?” ‘Star’s hand has wandered from Ric’s shoulder down to his side and is tracing circles on his lower back.

“Uh-huh,” Ric says. “You’re gonna look cute in that sweater.” Whenever ‘Star touches him like that it instantly makes him melt, and he wonders if ‘Star is doing it on purpose.

“I hope you like what I picked out.” ‘Star has always traditionally been in charge of their costumes. He’s got an eye for detail and always seems to make things work that Ric would spend most of his time puzzling over. They have a whole drawer in the closet dedicated to Halloween costumes of years past.

“‘Course I do.” They’ve had some good ones over the years - Mulder and Scully, Wayne and Garth, Gomez and Morticia. Corny as it may be, Ric always likes it better when they’re matching. “I wonder what everyone else is gonna wear?”

—

“Why do you always like the worst candy?” 

‘Star has been thinking about this for the better part of an hour now as he watches Ric take candy from their shared bowl and separate out what he likes and doesn’t like. What they have ended up with is a bowl divided, Ric being decidedly pickier than he has any right to be. ‘Star enjoys candy, but he likes other sweet things more. Halloween is just the time to indulge, however, and this is one Earth tradition ‘Star refuses to break.

“Maybe I’m just pretending to like it so I can leave you all the good stuff,” Ric suggests, tossing a piece of candy corn into the air and catching it in his mouth. “It’s a noble sacrifice, and I do it for you.”

It’s the night before Halloween and they’re sitting on the couch in their underwear, curled up together under a blanket. They finished decorating the apartment earlier in the day, and everything looks delightfully spooky in the dark.

Underneath it all, it’s still their apartment. The TV, the green velvet couch, and some newer additions - Ric’s clay sculpture, which they picked up from the art classroom a couple of days ago, and one of ‘Star’s naked sketches, now framed on the wall. He did several; the first was as regal as he imagined it, the second far too suggestive for display in the living room, but the third was his favorite. It’s more casual. In it, Ric relaxes in the armchair, resting his head on his hand. He’s glancing away, smiling at some joke ‘Star had told him, and ‘Star did his best to capture that smile in his sketch. It’s familiar to him as the expression Ric sometimes makes when he thinks nobody’s looking, unguarded and genuine and far too handsome. Ric laughed when ‘Star suggested framing the sketch for the wall, but he was serious. He thinks it looks good there.

“Candy corn is an Earth anomaly, you know,” ‘Star says seriously, picking his way around it as he shuffled past the unwrapped items and gets straight to the fun size candy bars that he made sure were plentiful. He grabs a handful of Twix bars and sits them next to him on the couch. “This planet is filled with so many good things, and yet they allowed the manufacture of something like that.” He’s good at masking his emotions, but he can never keep a straight face when he’s joking alone with Ric. ‘Star likes to tease him, and he takes every opportunity he can get. For now it’s the candy corn, and in a few months Ric will tease him right back for buying and drinking far too much eggnog.

“And yet here I am, eating it all so that you don’t have to.” Ric rummages around in the bowl, scooping up a handful of the stuff and tipping it all into his mouth at once. “So don’t say I don’t care about you,” he adds, voice muffled through a mouthful of sugar.

“Is candy corn poisoning something you can go to the hospital for? Because I believe you are well on your way.” A laugh hiccups out of him as he starts in on his own candy, unwrapping the gold wrappers and eating two small chocolate candies at a time. ‘Star thinks _fun size_ might be a misnomer and he struggles to think why anyone would want something smaller than the regular size candy bar to enjoy. 

“Whatever,” Ric shrugs. He shifts under the blanket, stretching his legs out across ‘Star’s lap. It’s cold outside and the wind is rattling the windows, but they’re warm here on the couch. They settled in just over an hour ago, intent on watching as much of this televised horror movie marathon as they can before one or both of them falls asleep. It’s not a tradition, but ‘Star thinks he’d like to make it one.

“Where do you stand on running zombies?” ‘Star changes the subject. “It seems unlikely, due to the nature of their decomposition, that they would be able to do such a thing.” He thinks about _Dawn of the Dead_ and thinks about the remake that they once watched and never watched again. Something far worse is on television now, something he can’t recall the name of.

“Uh, they can and do,” Ric says, wrinkling his nose. “And where I stand on them is that, uh, they’re gross?” He shrugs. “I guess it depends on whether you’re talkin’ magic or not. Like, you know about the Hand, right? That’s zombies. Or, I mean, it’s not _not_ zombies.”

“It is decidedly not zombies. They are undead. There is a difference.” Not just in decomposition, but also in their ability to be killed. “The Hand are difficult foes, but they are not unkillable. All you need do it decapitate them. The same goes for vampires of any nature. It is not a difficult task.”

“Totally not true,” Ric argues. “Ask Monet, she’s had to fight vampires before. Actually, her brother - that Emplate guy? _He’s_ a vampire, but you couldn’t kill him by cutting his head off. He’s, like, a ghost-vampire.” He feels Ric shiver. “What a creep. Uh, you know what? Maybe don’t ask her about that.”

“That is clearly not in the same category as other vampires. Perhaps there are exceptions to the rule, but it’s still a rule.” ‘Star mentally notes not to ask Monet about any of this, especially after what may have happened to her earlier this year. The party should be fun, not upsetting, even if it is Halloween.

“Then it’s a guideline, not an actual rule,” Ric points out. “Hey, did I ever tell you about that one time with the zombies? _Super_ gross.” He frowns slightly. “I already said that. But… y’know. I mean it. Gross.”

“You have regaled me with the tale before.” ‘Star shifts a little closer to Ric under the blankets. “But I usually do not pass up and opportunity to hear about you flexing your muscles, so to speak.”

Ric quirks an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he asks, moving closer to ‘Star in turn. His hand is on ‘Star’s waist under the blanket, idly rubbing at his hipbone with his thumb. “I kinda wish you got to see it,” he tells him. “It was pretty cool, letting loose like that. You remember that time with all the demons in Manhattan?”

‘Star nods. “Of course.”

“Like that, but way cooler,” Ric grins.

“Did I tell you about the time Neena and I slayed several members of the Hand in the subway tunnels?” ‘Star shivers when he feels Ric’s fingers on his skin. “They don’t seem to bleed, which was a shame, but it was exhilarating nonetheless.” He’s certain he’s shared this story before, but there is some part of trading stories like this that lights his veins on fire with adrenaline.

“Yeah, you told me,” Ric says. His voice is low and quiet, just bordering on husky, and his touch makes ‘Star’s arms break out in goosebumps. It _gets to him_ , as Rictor would say. “I was there when you got home, remember? I ran you a bath, and…” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We did some other stuff.”

“I remember. Though the _other stuff_ might have clouded my memory of what came before slightly.” He’s whispering now, close enough to Ric to reach over and tuck his hair behind his ear. “Though I do enjoy exchanging stories with you.”

“Likewise.” Ric turns his head to kiss ‘Star’s hand before he can move it away from his face. “Now, we could keep up the whole subtle flirting thing, but my leg is like right on your lap, and you’re not foolin’ anyone. So… bedroom?”

“Bedroom.” ‘Star leaves the TV on and the candy on the couch as he scoops Ric up into his arms, blanket and all, and carries him to the bedroom without another word. 

\--

“Why are you wearing those sweaters?”

Tabby looks just about as confused as Ric feels. She’s standing at their door on the night of the party, silhouetted in the black streamers and fake spiderwebs that hang from the doorframe. Illyana stands behind her, peering over her shoulder. Her expression is imperceptible as always, but her eyes flick over him, taking in his outfit.

His outfit, which is a costume. For Halloween. His Halloween costume, which matches ‘Star’s.

“Uh…” Ric stares at them both as the situation starts to dawn on him. Tabby’s in red checked pants and a crop top, and Illyana’s in all black, and neither outfit seems much like a Halloween costume to him at all. He feels his cheeks turn red.

‘Star squeezes in beside him, greeting them both with a smile. “What are you supposed to be?”

Tabby looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “We’re supposed to be hot,” she says, crossing her arms. “What the fuck are you doing? Are those khakis?”

Ric’s embarrassment flares into annoyance. “It’s Halloween, dumbass,” he says. “These are our costumes. He’s Bert, and I’m Ernie.”

“Who?” Illyana asks.

Tabby giggles. “That’s so lame,” she says. “I love it.”

Ric scowls, stepping in to block the doorway with his arm. “Go home and change,” he says, trying to look as imposing as he can in his dorky striped sweater. “I mean it. Nobody’s comin’ in here without a costume.”

“Seriously?” Tabby asks. Ric doesn’t budge. “Ugh,” she says. “Fine. Yana, zap us home.”

“Ask nicely,” Illyana says. She doesn’t smile, but Ric knows she must be teasing. 

He’s never seen her do that before. He raises an eyebrow, sharing a glance with ‘Star.

Tabby sighs. “Pretty please?” she says, while Illyana stares at her. “I’ll be your best friend,” she attempts. It’s total middle school shit, and it makes Ric snicker.

“Accepted,” Illyana says. Silver light shimmers around them, warping on the doorframe, and the soft sound of chimes fills the air. Then they’re gone.

“Did that seem odd to you?” ‘Star ponders out loud. “If I am reading the situation correctly, it appears that Illyana may have some feelings for Tabitha.” Trust ‘Star to come right out with it. “Romantic feelings,” he adds, as though it needs clarifying.

“I got that,” Ric nods. “And… I dunno. Maybe.” Probably. Probably mutual, if he knows Tabby, and he’d like to think that he does. For a moment, he feels hurt that she didn’t tell him about it. It passes quickly. He’s the last person to be lecturing people on keeping their feelings a secret.

‘Star, it appears, has already moved on. “What if everyone else does not come with a costume?”

“You’re…” Ric blinks. “You're just gonna say that and then breeze right past it, huh?” He shakes his head, feeling a grin of disbelief creep across his face. Maybe it's not so weird to 'Star because he hasn't known Tabby for as long. Maybe it's just because 'Star sees these things much clearer than he does. “I'm gonna take a second to process that. I'll get back to you. As for the costume thing, well… I guess we keep turning them away until they go home and change.” It's Halloween, and he refuses to be the only idiot out here in a weird sweater.

“Your costume looks cute. Do not let Tabitha tell you that you look like a nerd,” ‘Star reassures him. He’s not sure he needs reassuring, but it’s nice to hear, and it helps that ‘Star seals the sentiment with a kiss.

“I am a nerd,” Ric mumbles against his lips. “You know that. But you ain’t allowed to tell anyone.” ‘Star smiles at him, and Ric knows that it’s a promise.

A knock on the door interrupts them. “‘Star? Julio?” Terry’s voice rings out, bright and cheery and just a little bit too loud. “Are you there? Is this the right house?”

‘Star opens the door without a second thought, greeting Terry with a smile that seems to light up the room. Ric remembers when ‘Star used to have trouble making friends. It’s not so much of an issue now, but it’s nice to see that Terry has stuck around. They’ve been spending a lot of time together since she got back - they run errands together, go to IKEA, to the grocery store. Ric figures Terry must be doing her best to get her life back to normal after whatever just happened. It’s nice to think that he and ‘Star can help with that.

Terry, at least, has a costume. Her black bodysuit and pointy ears indicate that she’s supposed to be a cat, at least until she holds out her arms to show off the bat wings that drape from her arms like the cape on her uniform.

“No way,” Ric says, raising his eyebrows. “Can you fly in that?”

“I’m not sure,” Terry admits. “I think I should wait until later to test it out.”

“Thank you for wearing appropriate Halloween attire.” Ric can hear the smile in ‘Star’s voice again and he’s glad for it - they, the costumed attendees, now outnumber the non-costumed by one.

“What else would I be wearing?” Terry asks. Ric lets her step inside, and she surveys the apartment with a curious look, the candles and hanging lights reflecting in her wide eyes. “Ooh, it all looks so spooky. Am I the first person here? Where’s Tabitha? Isn’t this supposed to be her party?”

Ric is about to explain, but then the sound of bells and a sudden flash of light interrupt him.

“I’m back, bitches,” Tabby announces.

Ric whirls around. A strangled laugh escapes his throat. “What the fuck is that supposed to be?”

Tabby is standing in the middle of their living room in white lacy underwear, paired with the worn-out black boots from her previous outfit and some kind of blue furry thing draped around her shoulders. “I’m Emma Frost,” she says, as though it’s supposed to be obvious. “Duh.”

“What’s the -” Ric motions around his own shoulders, indicating the fur collar, “-thing? Did you skin Hank McCoy?”

Tabby glowers at him. “It’s supposed to be a cape,” she says. “It’s a rug from my apartment. I couldn’t find anything white.”

Ric rolls his eyes at her. At least he knows what Illyana’s supposed to be. She’s in exactly the same outfit as before, black boots and black jeans and a black mesh shirt. The only difference is the pair of red plastic devil horns she’s wearing in her hair.

Not as impressive as her actual horns, he thinks, though when she presses a button on the headband and they light up, Ric figures they come pretty close.

“I, for one, think that Tabitha is the spitting image of Emma Frost,” ‘Star chimes in from behind him. His voice drips with sarcasm that’s lost on everyone but Ric, and Ric tries to keep himself from laughing.

“She said she wanted to still be hot,” Illyana speaks up, the last word inflected with something that sounds like an inverted comma without the action.

“You’re going to be warm if you continue wearing that rug, Tabitha.”

Ric tries to contain his smirk.

Tabitha doesn’t catch the humor. “Are you kidding?” she says, hugging her arms around her chest. “I’m freezing my tits off. Why is it so cold in here?”

“Bad insulation,” Ric and ‘Star say at the exact same time. It’s well worn in their minds and he has to stop himself from laughing out loud.

“Who else is coming? Is it just the five of us?” ‘Star sounds like he wouldn’t exactly think that was the worst thing in the world, but they certainly have candy and snacks for at least 5 more people. 

Right on time, someone else knocks at the door.

“Oh man, tell me we're not early. I don't know anyone here except for Rictor, and we only met once when I accidentally -”

Ric opens the door to a gaggle of young mutants.

“- Fell on top of him during a mission,” the boy with the green scales finishes, and then he looks up, eyes widening. “Um.”

A pink-haired girl pushes in front of him. He's met her, he thinks. He recognizes the wings. “Hi,” she says, holding out her hand. “Ignore Vic, he's a wee bit of an idiot sometimes. We're here for the party! Trevor invited us. I'm Pixie.”

Ric shakes her hand. “Pixie,” he says. “I know we met, but I don't think I ever got your name.”

“Megan,” she corrects herself, with an impish grin. She’s dressed as a witch, in a tattered black dress and pointed hat. “And this is Santo, Roxy, Cessily and Vic. He fell on you. Apparently.”

“Shut up,” Vic mumbles, nudging her. Ric can’t figure out his costume; he’s dressed all old-timey, with a plastic skull clutched in one hand.

Ric waves his hand. “It's cool,” he says. “Probably my fault for walkin’ where you were fallin’. It happens a lot.”

Ric senses an inexplicable tension in the air. He figures it out when he realizes that Vic is already nervous and that his eyes have probably caught up to all seven feet of Shatterstar, who has no right to be as foreboding in that sweater as he is.

“Friends of yours, Julio?” ‘Star asks him and that’s not quite the truth, but it’s likely that ‘Star has never met any of these kids before. He doesn’t exactly make it a mission to hang out at the school.

“Sure,” Ric says, with a shrug. It’s weird being around Xavier’s students. He never was one, and part of him doesn’t really get it, but he does remember what it was like to be a teenager. He waves them all inside. “New friends. They’re cool, though. Trevor invited them.” He frowns slightly, leaning in towards Tabby when she passes him. “Wait, who’s Trevor?” he asks her in a whisper.

“I dunno,” Tabby shrugs. “I invited, like, a ton of people. Ooh, I think someone else is at the door!”

“Our apartment can only fit so many people.” Ric sees ‘Star shake his head, but he’s opening the door anyway. At this point, maybe they should just leave it open. The man on the other side isn’t someone he was expecting to see, but he’s glad nonetheless.

“Heard you guys were throwing a party.” James Proudstar stands about just as tall as the doorway, outfitted in a Ghostbusters jumpsuit with a grocery bag of snacks in his hand. “Nice place.”

‘Star doesn’t waste time hugging their old friend. He does that a lot now when they meet up with people and it always makes him smile. To go from barely knowing or wanting to shake hands to this… Ric knows the others have noticed too. 

Ric greets Jimmy with a wave, which Jimmy interprets as a high-five. “Hey, man,” he says. “How long are you in New York for, huh?” Jimmy lives somewhere in Arizona, usually. Ric remembers him saying New York was too full of X-Men. He can't exactly debate that.

“Couple weeks,” Jimmy says, handing Tabby the grocery bag. “Why, is there something on?”

“Mutant music night at the bar we went to last time you were here,” Ric explains. “There's some good bands playing. It's three weeks away, though, so I dunno if -”

“I'll stick around for it,” Jimmy interjects. “You guys have a couch, right?”

“Uh, sure,” Ric says. He should probably ask 'Star first, but how could he turn away an old friend?

He can’t. And when it comes right down to it, he knows that ‘Star couldn’t either. That’s the thing about all their old friends from X-Force. Even if they’ve all been through some shit (and they all have) the team always felt more like family than anything else. Ric can’t remember the last time Terry, Jimmy, Tabby, ‘Star and him were all in the same place at the same time, but he remembers the sense of camaraderie, and he feels it again now. Seems like Terry feels it too. The smile that lights up her face when she sees Jimmy makes throwing a party that wasn’t even his idea all worth it.

He notices that Illyana looks kind of out of place, looking around warily at Ric's X-Force guys at the door and the group of teenagers who have settled on and around the couch. He sees her make eye contact with the pink-haired girl, Megan, and quickly look away.

He waves her over. “Yana,” he calls, and she hurries to them, relieved at the excuse to join the group. “Come over here. Do you know these guys?”

“By reputation,” she says, hesitant. “Warpath and Siryn. But…”

Ric shakes his head. “Jimmy and Terry,” he reintroduces them. “Uh, he's big and she's loud. They're good people.” He turns to them. “Yana's a New Mutant, like me. She's good people too.”

“You say loud like it’s a bad thing.” Terry puts her hands on her hips, but she still has a smile on her face. “And I’ve seen you a few beers deep, you’re the loudest of us all.” She’s right, of course, but she shouldn’t say it. 

“I am uncertain we have friends who are not good people.” ‘Star is standing beside him again in an instant. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be friends of ours. Illyana, have you seen the array of candles in the kitchen? I would like to get your opinion on them. Pinterest advised me that they could be used in an actual summoning circle, but I am unconvinced.” Leave it to ‘Star to break the tension with a new friend.

Illyana doesn't hesitate to respond. “You can use anything,” she says, with the air of someone well-versed in mechanics telling someone how to fix a car. “Church candles, scented candles, tea lights. What really matters is your intent - and your resolve.” 'Star nods, apparently fascinated, and she continues. “A good grimoire doesn't hurt. Chalk for a pentagram, salt to ward away evil, a blood sacrifice if you've got one.” There's a silence, and then Illyana grins. “That was a joke.”

“I for one am extremely interested in this blood sacrifice.” ‘Star still seems enraptured with Illyana’s previous instructions, joke or not. For once, Ric can’t quite tell if he’s joking either.

“Cool,” Ric says. “Well, I'm gonna get everyone some drinks, and, uh… check those kids’ ID, and… man, I hate bein’ the adult in this situation.” That's the true horror of Halloween, he thinks. Responsibility.

“The kids seem like they are on the straight and narrow. I don’t know about the rest of you, though.” Ric recognizes Monet’s voice the moment she starts speaking, though he can’t recall when he saw her last. Between being off planet and hearing the rumors of a bunch of stuff that sounds more like a horror movie than the ones he and ‘Star have been watching on TV, he must have just lost track of her. It happens. She stands just inside the doorway with two other people he recognizes immediately - Jonothon Starsmore and Paige Guthrie. He’s silently glad that if what he heard really _did_ happen, Monet didn’t go through it without friends.

Not, Ric thinks, for lack of trying. “Leave you two alone for a second and you’ve bought a typical Brooklyn apartment with no street parking and neighbors who put trash on their front steps,” Monet scoffs. “Ugh. _Hipsters._ ” 

“Oh, yeah,” Ric says, halfway to the kitchen. “We're totally off the rails here. Partying twenty-four seven, goin’ to art museums, drinkin’ cold brew coffee out of jars and stuff.” He hefts a case of beer out of the fridge and sets it on the counter. “Hey, M. Hey Paige, hey Jono.”

Someone else steps through the doorway after them, a tall guy with straight blonde hair and eyes all over his body, all of them glancing nervously around the room.

“Hey, Trevor!” Megan calls, waving him over.

So _that's_ Trevor, Ric thinks. There are mutants at the school who he's never even heard of before.

“Here,” he says, handing Paige a beer as she approaches the counter. “For you,” he continues, when Tabby follows, and again when Jimmy walks past. “Not you,” he says, swiping the fourth bottle out of Megan's reach. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she protests. “I’m Welsh, you know. Everyone over there drinks at eighteen.”

“Well, this ain't Wales,” Ric says. “Go get some soda or something. Hey, Monet, come over here. I feel like we haven't talked for ages.”

She glances at the label when he hands her the beer, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Spend all this time with Shatterstar and you still have such bad taste.” Ric rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling. It’s true, they haven’t talked in ages, but Monet looks good - confident, with her air of superiority firmly intact despite the indignity of her Halloween costume. She’s dressed in a black and white striped suit, with dark mascara circling her eyes. _Beetlejuice_ , Ric thinks. _Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice…_

If Monet is listening in to his thoughts, she’s good at hiding it. “I’ll admit, this… domesticity thing is a good look on you.”

“Yeah,” he says, quieter and with a smile. “It feels good, too. Guess I'm a big stupid romantic at heart.” His eyes settle on 'Star, gazing at him from across the room. He watches him talk with the others, watches him laugh and make jokes and fidget with his stupid sweater, and his heart feels light in his chest. “That man…”

“Is the best thing to ever happen to you,” Monet finishes his sentence for him. “You weren't going to say it out loud, but you should.” She gives him a rare smile. “Ugh, this is all so sappy. I'm almost feeling something.”

“It’s cute. I feel like we missed a housewarming party or something. Unless you didn’t have one.” Terry is suddenly right behind him and he feels very seen, she must have caught their conversation. “It’s good to see you M.” 

“You know, I am going to have to agree. No one lets the sappiness leave the kitchen, though.” 

“I won't tell if you don't,” Ric says.

“I will,” Terry says brightly. “Good beer, by the way. Ooh, is that someone at the door?”

“Dani!” Ric calls out, as the woman in question walks through the door, dressed as an uncharacteristically cheery Wednesday Addams. Jubilee is behind her, encircled in a high-collared black cape. She grins, exposing a set of obviously fake vampire teeth over her own, clearly human ones. Monet nudges him with her hip, and he walks out from behind the counter to greet her properly.

—

‘Star isn’t sure how many people he thought might fit in their apartment, but he’s counted at least fifteen now and he’s wondering if maybe they shouldn’t have decided to have it somewhere else. Both Terry and Ric have been silently checking on him for the last hour, giving glances to make sure he’s alright, that things aren’t too loud or crowded for him. It’s sweet. Ric knows how he feels about crowds, and it almost seems second nature for him to glance his way when the volume of people around get to be too much, grab his hand when it seems like he might not be handling things well. He’s flattered that Terry even remembers his difficulty with those kinds of things.

He’s alright, though. He’s not surrounded by strangers, he’s surrounded by friends. Even if he’s only met some of them a short while ago. ‘Star could have never imagined having a party like this when he was younger. He couldn’t have imagined it even a year ago.

As the night progresses, they split into groups: Terry, Monet, and Dani giggling at some private joke over drinks at the counter; Paige, shedding straw from her scarecrow costume, mediating a very intense game of Scrabble between Jimmy and Jubilee; Jono by the sound system, the bandages of his mummy costume starting to unwind, compiling a very dark and ambient Halloween playlist on the fly; the Xavier’s students around the couch, and Ric skipping between groups, trying to hand out as much of the candy that they bought as possible.

“... And then Mr Summers shows up out of nowhere, shuts down the danger room, and Lila disappears in the middle of our big duet. The whole band disappears. I mean, what a bummer, right?”

“I didn't know you were a Lila Cheney fan, Santo,” Roxy laughs. She and Cessily are dressed to match each other, apparently, in thrifted clothes with a clear 80s aesthetic. ‘Star didn’t get the reference; Ric explained to him that _Black Mirror_ wasn’t worth watching save for that one episode. “Wait, unless… tell me that's not some kind of metaphor, or I will kick your dumb granite -”

“No!” Santo insists. He's sitting with the others in the living room; from behind the couch, 'Star can only see the unpainted side of the cardboard cutouts stuck to his rocky shoulders. From the front, they’re painted like the carved stone faces of three dead presidents, with Santo himself in the middle right as Theodore Roosevelt. “We were just singing. I'm passionate about music, okay?”

“He has an excellent singing voice,” Vic informs everyone.

“Really?” Trevor’s eyes - all of them - go wide. He was wearing a set of white angel wings at the start of the night, but he’s since taken them off; they sit in his lap, and he fidgets with the feathers.

“Yeah, we used to hang out with Lila,” Tabby says. She's integrated well with the group of new X-students, even bridging whatever gap existed between them and Illyana, and now the whole group is sitting in a circle, just talking. “Before she got all famous and stuck-up. Whatever, though.”

“Dazzler is better,” Illyana chimes in.

“Dazzler is _way_ better,” Megan agrees. “Wow, I never knew you were a fan. You know I met her once? I even got to go to her concert!”

'Star leans in slightly over the couch, overcome with curiosity. “What was she like?” he asks, before he can talk himself out of it.

“She was so cool,” Megan tells him. “She's a rockstar and she saved my life, but she's so _normal._ Fun, but caring. Like… like someone's cool mom.” She laughs, embarrassed. “I don't really know what I'm saying. You kinda have to meet her to understand.”

He sees Ric raise an eyebrow at him, lips quirked into the slightest of smiles.

“Perhaps I do,” 'Star says. “She sounds… cool.”

“Way cool,” Ric agrees. His hand finds 'Star's.

He holds it tight and even as he and Ric exchange a smile, he feels compelled to change the subject. “You have all seen battle outside the danger room, yes?” ‘Star feels his shoulders relax a bit as he melts a little into the conversation. His most memorable experience in the danger room was when they had all been imprisoned there, when X-Force was still on the run from SHIELD and Cable was missing. ‘Star wonders if any of these younger mutants has ever had to experience something like that. “Tested your mettle against real foes?”

“They totally have,” Ric answers for them. “Most of these guys have been through as much shit as we have. I know they fought the Purifiers, back in the day. That's where I ran into Vic here. I was undercover tryin’ to hack into their systems, he mistook me for one of them, and totally kicked my ass.” Ric laughs, and Victor looks awkward. “And some of 'em fought Donald Pierce and his goons, and they fought Emplate, and, uh…”

“Me,” Illyana speaks up. There's a silence. “Sorry,” she adds.

Victor shrugs, waving one spiny hand in dismissal. “It's okay,” he says. “I get it now. The mind control thing? It's an X-Men thing. I mean, if it happened to Northstar, it could happen to anyone.”

“It wasn't…” Illyana starts, but Megan interrupts her.

“It's okay,” she says. “Really. I'm the one who should be sorry. We were all so mean to you when you came back to the school.”

“I…” Illyana seems lost for words. “Thank you?”

“Don't mention it,” Vic says. “Like I said, it's a thing. Like, _never have I ever briefly become evil and fought the X-Men_. Everyone take a drink.”

Several people in the room raise their glasses.

Somehow, it makes ‘Star’s experience with the same kind of thing feel a little less heavy. He would share it, but he has another, better idea. “As accomplished as you appear to be, I am assuming you all still trade frightening tales, ghostly or otherwise on Halloween, yes? Has Julio told you about the time he and Illyana fought zombies?”

“Like on the Walking Dead?” Santo asks.

“Yes!” Ric says, then turns to Illyana. “See? Everyone reads that comic.”

“It's a comic?”

Ric sighs, sharing a look with 'Star. “Okay, so here's how it was…”

—

It’s easy to get the Xavier’s kids to leave on time when you threaten to call Kitty Pryde and tell her that her students (not to mention a handful of their teachers) have all been out late at a Halloween party drinking. One of them tries to call Ric’s bluff, but he simply clicks his phone to speaker as it rings. He almost feels bad about it - he remembers being 19, after all - but it’s getting late.

Terry, Jimmy, Tabby and Illyana are all that’s left now and ‘Star is draped across their couch, picking his way through a plastic jack-o’-lantern full of candy. The counter is covered in empty bottles and cans, and candy wrappers are strewn across the floor. Some of the streamers have fallen down. ‘Star’s nude drawing of Ric is still on the wall, but someone has stuck a cardboard cut-out of a ghost over the explicit part.

Ric quietly excuses himself from a riveting conversation about Jimmy's new car ( _truck_ , he insists) and sidles up to 'Star, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his head.

“Are you, like, okay there?” he asks him gently, feeling the corner of his mouth twist up into a smile. “I'm sensin’ you're minutes away from a sugar coma.” 

“It is impossible for me to fall into any such thing,” ‘Star insists, unwrapping another Snickers bar before he looks up at him from his space on the couch. “Also, if I don’t eat all of this candy, it’s going to go to waste. The thought is unbearable.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you have to eat it all at once,” Ric points out. He reaches over ‘Star’s shoulder and digs through the bowl, pushing aside handfuls of Reese’s Cups and Hershey’s Kisses in search of the candy corn that’s settled at the bottom. ‘Star frowns at him, but he continues.

“Would you like the bowl so you can scavenge for the horrible candy that has settled?” ‘Star looks up at him again, moments away from shoving more candy into his mouth.

“No,” Ric says, content. “I’m happy here.” He tosses the candy corn into his mouth and leans back against the couch, letting his hand trail down over ‘Star’s chest in his ridiculous Bert sweater.

“Okay,” ‘Star says through a mouthful. “I think the party was a success, all uninvited guests considered. Is Jimmy going to stay on our couch tonight?” The candy wrapper in ‘Star’s hand finds its way to the coffee table that’s already littered with them.

“Nah, I’m gonna stay with Terry,” Jimmy calls out.

Ric turns to ‘Star. “He’s gonna stay with Terry,” he repeats. Then he furrows his brow, turning to face Terry. “Wait, aren’t you staying with Tabby while you look for your own place?”

“Yes,” Terry says, “but Tabby’s staying with Illyana now instead.”

Ric glances back at ‘Star, raising an eyebrow. ‘Star returns an almost-identical look.

“I told you,” ‘Star whispers.

Ric shakes his head, holding a finger to his lips to shush him. ‘Star looks as though he might be smug, if he weren’t so sleepy.

“Do you guys need help cleaning up or anything?” Jimmy breaks the silence.

Ric thinks maybe they do, but he’d rather sleep and deal with it in the morning. This, he thinks, seems like a problem for future Julio. 

“I think we can take care of it.”

\--

After the others leave, Ric and ‘Star sit down on the couch to watch one last horror movie. He starts out with the intention of relocating to the bed once it’s over, but it’s cold in the apartment and warm under the blanket he’s sharing with ‘Star, so when autoplay turns one movie into two, Ric just lets it happen. After _Halloween_ and about halfway through _The Thing_ ‘Star falls asleep, so Ric carefully places the plastic bucket of candy on the coffee table and settles down beside him (more like on top of him, if he’s honest; it’s not a very big couch). He curls up, resting his head under ‘Star’s chin. He doesn’t mean to wake him, but it feels too good when ‘Star moves underneath him, encircling him with his arms and kissing the top of his head.

“Did you enjoy the party?” ‘Star’s words are quiet against the sound of the television, sleepy and thick with residual sugar. Something about all of this, the party, their friends and the perfect ending to the night makes the answer to that question easy.

“Uh-huh,” Ric mumbles. His lips are close enough to ‘Star’s skin to make him squirm; he’s ticklish, and Ric takes advantage of that far more often than he should. “Knew it was gonna be good as soon as I saw you in that sweater.”

“Likewise. I am glad you enjoyed the costumes.” ‘Star takes a deep breath and Ric rises with his chest just slightly. “We should probably go to bed.”

“I think I’m just fine stayin’ here.” Not to mention too tired to move. Ric isn’t sure where his phone has disappeared to so he can’t check the time, but he’s sure it must be the early hours of the morning. He yawns, and ‘Star twitches slightly at the sensation. “So… next year, huh? What should we do for costumes?”

“You get to pick. I want to see what you come up with.” Ric can see ‘Star smiling a little. Maybe it’s a challenge, or maybe he’s just too tired and has relinquished creative rights to future Halloween costume ideas for now.

“Maybe somethin’ scary next time,” Ric suggests. It’s getting difficult to keep his eyes open. His fingers play on the soft collar of ‘Star’s striped sweater, pulling it back from his throat. “How do you feel about vampires?”

“I -” ‘Star begins to talk, but Ric interrupts him, nipping playfully at his neck and then sucking on it hard, making him gasp and twist beneath him.

“I think you’re already there,” ‘Star laughs, and Ric feels it in his chest. “Patience, Julio. We have all year to get ready.”

“Mmhm,” Ric hums, covering the bruise on ‘Star’s throat with soft, lazy kisses until it disappears. “Lots of time to practice.”

He feels ‘Star’s hand settle in his hair, pushing it back from his face. “Go to sleep, Julio.”

Ric rests his head on ‘Star’s shoulder, mumbling something unintelligible against his skin.

‘Star understands him. “I love you too,” he murmurs back.

Ric is asleep before he knows it.


End file.
